Bizarre environment just one appealing factor at a restaurant nestled inside a questionably decorated drinking establishment.

Exactly one year ago, I wrote a story, “Restaurant unrest,” detailing the increasingly dysfunctional relationship between restaurant owners and their customers. The list of complaints was long on both sides. Chefs and restaurateurs piped up on topics like whether bread should still be free to whether little kids belonged in high end restaurants. What did they think of us sending back our food, claiming food dislikes were allergies, and our request to take home that uneaten rack of ribs? Were we right to complain about excessive wine prices, wrong to show up for dinner in sweat pants, or delusional to ask that the music be turned down? Was a 15 per cent tip still a fair tip? And if we weren’t happy with our posh din din, could we send that lukewarm soup back? Or should we race home and post angry reviews on social networking sites?

All such questions are swirling around the dining scene lately, yet none seems to resonate as strongly as the topic of no-shows. When asked, “Considering the high number of no-shows, should restaurants consider asking for a deposit to hold a reservation?” the panel went wild. One chef said it best: “No-shows are the worst kind of vermin, and Montreal is full of them. You don’t have time to pick up the phone and say you aren’t coming? Really? Montreal restaurants are small, which means margins are slim. It’s a verbal agreement, and we often base our staffing and ordering on those numbers. I hope there comes a day that if you don’t show up for your table, you’re charged for it.”

In a nutshell, that says it all!

Or does it? Despite the evident angst, the no-shows carry on at quite a clip. Over the past year, I’ve seen exasperated chefs post the number of no-shows on social media sites, with some American chefs going so far as to name names. Then last month, on the local scene, one post on Twitter by restaurant Tapeo shoved the topic onto the front burner again. On Saturday, March 15, the restaurant announced that 28 people did not honour their reservation. That’s one-third of the entire restaurant capacity. The breakdown included a table of four, a table of six and a table of 18. Eighteen people didn’t show for the table they booked! And to think the restaurant turned down about 50 reservations that night for dinner.

Despite articles in English media on this topic (the Gazette has run several), it took the Tapeo fiasco for Montreal's francophone press to finally acknowledge the no-show problemo. Eater Montreal was the first to detail the Tapeo cri de coeur, followed by a large feature in the Journal de Montreal. The radio waves were suddenly brimming with angry chefs recounting no-show horror stories. A twitter account was created, @noshowsmontreal, devoted entirely to calling out unhonoured reservations (Restaurant Globe claimed 38 no-shows on the last Saturday of March!). They also post links to no-show tell-alls across the planet, because, my friends, the the no-show phenomenon has gone global! At dinner in an exclusive restaurant located within an all-inclusive hotel in Mexico last month, I sat next to an empty table for 12 diners who failed to show or even contact the restaurant though they were right under their roof! Unreal.

For as long as people have sat customers down at a pre-booked table to sell them food, the idea that at least one of them may not show has been a brutal reality of the restaurant business. The first recollection I have of the no-show issue was back in the '90s when British chefs like Marco Pierre White and Gordon Ramsay were requesting that for tables of six or more, customers would be required to complete a reservation contract requesting a deposit made by credit card number. Such highly-sought-after seats at Britain's top tables often require bookings made months in advance. And considering their tasting menus set customers back hundreds of dollars, those seats are valuable in restaurants where food cost is high and the number of customers per service is very low. Though starred restaurants may appear to be rolling in cash, chances are your local Bâton Rouge is making more of a profit than the farm-to-table, chef-driven establishment with 40 seats in the dining room, 12 waiters on the floor, and 18 chefs behind the stoves.

The contract/credit card idea seemed the ideal solution to the no-show dilemma. Yet hold on there, according to François Meunieur, vice-president of public affairs for the Association des Restaurateurs du Quebec (ARQ), the Consumer Protection Bureau says not so fast, stating: "Article 13 of the Law on consumer protection specifically prohibits commercial stipulation requiring the consumer to pay fees, penalties or damages the amount of which is fixed in advance in the case of breach of its obligation. Therefore, restaurateurs can not impose a penalty fixed in advance the consumer who does not appear at the scheduled time of booking. The restaurateur believes, however, that the consumer has breached a contractual obligation not showing up at the time of booking, and because of this, he suffered an injury, he can claim from the consumer the real damage that the failure it has caused."

In other words, with a contract, yes, but without a contract, no. Even if you gave your credit card number, it’s useless without a security code. In the end, who wants to give away such precious information to a total stranger on the other end of the phone? No one. And who says the number given isn’t made up.

The other option for restaurant owners is to require a credit-card number through a third party, like Open Table. “This restaurant requests a credit-card number to hold this reservation,” is the line that struck me when I booked at the three-Michelin starred restaurant, Meadowood in Napa, California, last fall. Considering the high price of dining there (dinner with wine can easily hit $700 for two), and the paucity of available seats, I understood why. And yet on the night of my dinner, there was a terrible wind storm in Napa. Unwilling to drive the dark and dangerous roads that night, I called to see whether I could cancel my reservation. Yes, I was told, but as I wasn’t cancelling within the 48-hour time frame allowed by the restaurant, I would be charged $200 if I didn’t show. Needless to say, I hit the highway — though truth be told, the perilous driving conditions ruined my appetite.

And that’s the thing about eating in restaurants. Dining out should be a pleasant experience. If I book a table and blow off the reservation, I’m not only robbing the restaurant owner of his hard-earned dollars, I’m robbing some other diner of his chance to eat there. But if the restaurant penalizes me for wanting to cancel my reservation at the last minute, that leaves me with a pretty unpleasant taste in my mouth, too. That night in Napa, I learned my lesson the hard way: no restaurant reservation is worth risking your life for. Never would I dine in a restaurant that didn’t allow me the chance to cancel at the last minute if need be. It’s not cool for the restaurant, but sometimes life — and weather — get in the way.

So what’s the compromise? Some have considered the option of forgoing reservations altogether. Thumbs down! I’m sure I’m not alone when I say I’m too old and impatient to wait in line, especially after looking for parking for 20 long minutes. How about forcing customers to re-confirm, dentist-office-style, the day of the booking? I hear that can be effective, yet I’m also told people still don’t show after reconfirming. Then there’s the idea of putting the bad guys’ names on a blacklist? Yes, that’s understandable. If you don’t show up for your reservation, you risk not getting a table again. Good one — as long as the diners are using a real name. Yet calling people out specifically by posting their names on social media sites is malicious. There must be more effective methods than plain, old-fashioned shame.

Here’s an idea: release the seats. The idea of the walk-by customer is all but dead in the restaurant world, because on busy nights, everything is booked up days in advance. But if the restaurant allowed a 15-minute grace period for the customer to call and say they are running late, and then free up the table for any customer who wants it, that empty table wouldn’t languish until the end of service. Works for me.

But please, give me a break if I call to say I’m going to be late. I was once caught in traffic in Manhattan running late for a reservation at Eleven Madison Park. When I called to say I’d be a bit there in 10 minutes, I was told they wouldn’t hold my table for more than 15. I’m not big on such useless threats (I told them I had travelled from Montreal to eat there), but I admired the fact that they were ready to resell those seats if need be.

Ultimately, the only thing to say to people is respect your reservation. Yes, we can have those so-called “senior moments” when we forget about a restaurant reservation. But in a day and age when we all have a phone stuck to our person, is it in any way forgivable for 18 people to ignore that gorgeous table the eager and hard-working restaurateur has set for them? Never.

You can hear Lesley Chesterman on ICI Radio-Canada Première’s (95.1 FM) Médium Large Tuesdays at 10 a.m., and on CHOM (97.7 FM) Wednesdays at 7:10 a.m.

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